


Trust

by cousinrayray



Series: Common Decency [1]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, C137cest, First Time, M/M, babysfirstfanfic, stressed!Rick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 11:40:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12210570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cousinrayray/pseuds/cousinrayray
Summary: Like all people who pushed boundaries, Rick had a nagging fear in the back of his mind of one day going too far.





	Trust

**Author's Note:**

> Omfg guys, I did it! Way too old, perhaps, to be finally writing and posting a fanfic, but I stumbled on this fandom a few weeks ago and couldn't control myself. There's just so much incredibly well-written stuff in this tiny community, it was inspirational, and I want to give a heartfelt thanks to the authors on this site whose works filled me with feels and blew me away and made me want to finally try it for myself.
> 
> Hopefully this is a respectable-enough first contribution. Feel free to leave comments and criticisms. I'll probably be tinkering with this baby 'till the end of time, I'm like that.

Trust

Morty had been weird, recently. He walked into the garage late at night a few weeks ago, babbling embarrassedly about hormones, and teenage bullshit, and whether Rick had some kind of device to repress “obsessive thoughts”. Uninterested in hearing more pathetic angst, or any more hints about his grandson’s gross jerk-off fantasies, he had interrupted Morty impatiently, 

“Morty, fantasies don’t, they don’t fucking matter. That’s the whole fucking point, dipshit, they’re thoughts, they’re abstract concepts. Fantasize about whatever, f-fuckin’ fantasize about killing people and-and taking a shit on their chest. No one, no one has any business fucking around with whate-euugh-ver gets you through the night, not even me buddy. Freeeee your mind.” He lazily swallowed a swig of liquor, gave Morty’s shoulder a patronizing shake, and turned back to his work. He didn’t think too much about it. If he paid attention to every stupid detail of his grandson’s sex life, he’d go insane. 

Then, tonight, the little dumb-ass had fidgeted his way in again while he was working the garage, standing in front of Rick looking way too self-important. Rick turned towards him and raised an eyebrow, flask waiting expectantly in his hand. When Morty got his serious-conversation face on like that, there was a decent chance for hilarity. 

“Rick…”

“Yes, Morty?” he had a smirk already in place. Awkward fucker just stood there. 

“I just-I just wanted to say…”, the spaz just trailed off again, twisting his hands nervously. Ugh, this was taking too long. Rick rolled his eyes and took a swig. Before he could begin the mocking, however, an explosion took place. 

“You know what Rick I have spent a lot of time feelin’, feeling ashamed about the things that turn me on, and you know what? I’ve decided that I’m not gonna do it any more. I’m not gonna just sit and think and stew over this shit. You know, all the crazy stuff I’ve gone through, it's made me what I am and I’m glad for it, I’m glad- I wouldn’t take it all back for anything. I’m glad I’m the Morty I am. I'm glad I've had the opportunity to-to shed my planetary mindset. And-and fuck it, you know? I don’t want, I don’t want just little fantasies in my head anymore. I wanna be bold. I want to experience...stuff. I wanna own up to it, put it out there, be- be upfront, and- and see what I can get back.” 

Rick’s eyes narrowed as he processed Morty’s rambling nonsense. Why was he the one getting this little speech? What was the little shit getting at? A thin tendril of disquiet moved in him.

“Does this have a point, Morty? Are you- beuurgh- are you this proud to tell me about your- your big spooky fetish? Cuz, you know, I'm just all ears. I spend so much time every day pondering my grandson’s jerk off habits, I've actually started a religion based off my spiritual findings. It's called Unitarian Eterna-Virginism, and it's adherents will tell you that the virtues of- of sheer pathetic dweebiness are balanced out by…”

Please don’t let this little confession be all about him, he thought desperately as his mouth ran on autopilot. Rick felt bizarrely certain all the sudden that he knew exactly where this was going, why this was being directed at him and there wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to make him drunk enough to hear this. 

Morty seemed to screw up his courage, puffing himself out a bit as he interrupted, “It’s- it’s you… R-rick. I think about- I want you,” he said, faltering a bit at the end. 

God fucking damn it.

 

Rick didn't have to be a genius to know there was something unwholesome, something wrong about the way he treated Morty. Codependency, isolationism, and adultification off the Richter scale, just to name a few. But Rick was always fundamentally a lazy, selfish person, and if it worked, why fuck with it?

He was no fool, though, and he was all too aware of how much he enjoyed overwhelming the kid, dragging him off by the arm and blowing his mind all over the universe. He was also aware, at least from an outside perspective, that there were more than a few aspects that could be viewed as, well, abusive or even predatory in nature. 

Rick could swear up and down to himself that it was all in good fun, all for the sake of expanding the kid’s horizons, strengthening him to be able to share all Rick found awe-inspiring about crazy fucked-up infinity, but he didn’t completely buy it. He did care about Morty, a lot even, but he knew he was inherently not a good person, a liar, a killer, and a bully. A person with a far longer history of using and losing people in his life than bringing them any good. 

Part of him dreaded the inevitable moment when his judgement and luck failed, when he went too far. He always went too far, but with Morty it was different. And he knew that regardless of his somewhat benevolent wants, in the grand scheme of things, Ricks were selfish, were capable of anything. He never fully trusted himself, was more inclined to second-guess himself when it came to Morty. He figured it was a smart precaution. 

Morty’s idiot, selfish, unfairness angered Rick. This kind of fucked-up shit would be difficult to fix. He was well aware there were realities where Ricks and Morties fooled around or fucked, the sorry, monkey-brained dipshits. Fucking a Morty was like tripping a blind person, boorishly stupid for petty gratification. He and his Morty were not about to play around with that shit. It was sinking to a level of fucked-ness that even he wasn't looking for in their relationship. The fact that Morty had even brought it up meant things were worse than Rick thought.

Morty thoughtlessly threw this kind of shit to the table when Rick had lived with his self-recriminations for years, had made a genuine effort to at least on occasion reflect and make sure he was doing all right by Morty. It made him fucking angry. All he could think of was how big this was, how much self-flagellation this particularly spectacular way he had managed to fuck Morty up would cause him to endure.  
. 

“Goddammit Morty. Goddamit goddamit Morty why-why are you so fucking stupid! Why?? W-why have I been cursed with the thickest fucking idiot in the whole goddam galaxy?!," he yelled, hands flexing at the sides of his face. Morty looked at him frozen and rigid, eyes a bit too wide and skin pale. 

Rick knew he was always selfish enough to not change his behavior. He wasn't going to call it quits with Morty, or fly off and save his grandson from the inevitable damaging bullshit Rick caused in his life. This would be just more damage dealt that he would spackle over and tell himself was fine. Just another little piece to add to the pile of reasons to hate himself. And this time it was all Morty’s fault.

”Goddamn it, just... fuck". He sighed, energy suddenly draining out of him. Fine, he'd get a move on. Time to pull himself together and deal with this. He took a swig. 

"No, Morty. Just no. A whole buh-bucket of fuck no". He didn't want it to sound so tired, but he was tired. He felt very tired, and a bit overwhelmed with failure. He knew he should try to play it light. Try to joke the kid around and hopefully get him to admit he wasn’t serious about all this, but right now nothing was coming to him. Morty was still staring at him in that awful stiff way, eyes seeming to work themselves into some kind of heartbreak.

“Uugghhhh," he scrubbed his hand down his face, "Listen kid, I don't hate you, this isn't the end of our adventures, but I'm not about to molest my grandson, like fo-ough-r realzies."

Morty blinked and exhaled, shoulders relaxing a bit. “R-rick that's not what I meant," he said, hesitantly. 

"Oh so you don't wanna fool around with your, with your fucking grandpa?"

Morty blushed and stammered, "W-well yeah, I guess so, but-"

“Shut up M-morty. Just go to bed. It's not happening. Ever. Tomorrow- tomorrow we'll go somewhere fun and and dangerous like we always do. Just, just go to bed."

Morty shuffled off, glancing back at himself few times. Rick kept his face impassive, at least, he hoped it was impassive. Mostly he wanted to throw things and get drunk enough to forget this whole conversation. And when Morty finally left and Rick could hear him moving away in the house to his bedroom, that's exactly what he proceeded to do. Jesus fucking Christ, Morty. 

 

"Wake up wake up wake up mother fuckerrrr!!”

Morty blearily opened his eyes to the familiar sight of his grandfather standing in the too-early morning light of his room, clutching a flask, eyes wide with excitement. He almost swallowed his tongue when Rick took a chug from his flask and added, "or grandpa fucker, whatever, whatever the kids are into these days."

Rick had come to a conclusion last night, somewhere during the second fifth of vodka he slammed down his throat. On the one hand, he didn't want to seem too blasé about this and give the kid any wrong ideas about its possibility. On the other, if he played it too seriously, made it some big dark secret, that would just encourage Morty to take it too seriously, convince his hormone-addled mind that he had some tortured forbidden love of the century for his grandfather. So a bit of teasing, always dismissive, should help kill this idea of his, the same way Rick’s teasing killed most of Morty’s stupid ideas. 

"Mo-ough-rty, we're going to Blitelbong 5. You-you ever been to Blitelbong 5? It's a shitty, shitty podunk rat trap of a planet. But they got five-tittied women there, Morty! It should be- it should be called Tittie-bong 5, Morty! And they're all dumb as rocks, it's a great time. But we're not, we're not going there for titties. We're going there for algae! Come on, come on, get up, get dre-eugh-ssed, space time’s a wastin." 

Morty still hadn't moved from the bed, blinking at Rick. "Sure Rick, sounds good. But uh, can-can you um, leave while I'm getting changed?" He asked, blushing furiously. 

“Ugh,” Rick sighed and rolled his eyes. " I forgot, I forgot that you were gonna insist on doing the whole blushing virgin bullshit around me while you- while you pulled your boners back under control. Fine, wha-uught-ever Morty. Just stop wasting time and get your ass to the garage." And he blew back out of the room. 

A day's worth of hard work and running for their lives later they were returning from their adventure. Rick was driving the craft with one hand and flask chugging with another, and felt, honestly, a little uneasy, and annoyed because he was uneasy. Morty had been withdrawn and awkward, he was certain of it, and it had driven him to drink more and more over the day. His efforts to get Morty to loosen up and act normal, his throwing them both into danger, wise-cracking and maniacal the whole time, his drunken soliloquies about the merits of five-breasted alien bitches, all of it felt unusually and increasingly self conscious in the face of Morty’s constant, quiet, off-ness. And that annoyed him, too. Should he ask about it? He was pretty certain he knew the gist of what was wrong with the kid, did he really want to have this conversation? Fuck it, it was pissing him off. 

"What's your fucking problem, Morty?"

"Ah jeez Rick, what-what do you mean?"

“You know what- what I fucking mean, Mo-ourgh-ty. You've been acting like a nervous little bitch at prom all day. Is that what- is that what your problem is Morty? Did you think today I had changed my mind, that I was gonna take you somewhere- take you off somewhere on a date and bo-eugh-ne you? Sorry to disappoint you with my refusal to entertain your fucking- fuckin’ infantile wet dreams."

“God DAMN Rick, I was just- just sitting here?!”

“Exactly, Morty, sitting here like a sack of shit! All fucking day long mopey moody fucking Morty! Just because Grandpa Rick shot down your fucking come-on!”

“You know what Rick? I'm sorry if- if I've been weird today. I'm not mopey, I'm trying not to be mopey or or weird. I'm sorry if I've made today suck. But I'm sick of you mocking me over this! This- last night- this was a big deal for me to do. I respect that you're not- not interested. I'm glad you still wanna hang out with me. But that wasn't easy for me to own up to. It's- it's not- it's not just some random thing I thought of doing one day fo-for shits. It's something that's important to me, that I really wanted for a long time." He started getting redder, and more fired up, at Rick’s eye roll and raised eyebrows. 

"Yes Morty, the confused throbbings of your dick are definitely indicators that this is important fucking business, serious feelings over here."

"I'm not saying that, asshole. You know, you tell me I'm an idiot all the fucking time. But you- you know damn well that I've handled all kinds of emotional shit that should be way over my head, not that that's ever stopped you before from doing shit, and I've survived. Better even. I'm-I’m not even close to the average 16 year old." 

"Yeah Morty, you're a real grown up alright. Why don't I, why don't I just step down and, and youu, teach meee? With your decades of experience, your-your honed wisdom. Your se-euurgh-sexual prow-euugh-ess."

“God Rick just stop! That's not what I fucking mean. What I'm saying is you know, I-I know you know cause you've made me- you've seen me do it. You know I can handle a lot of shit, I've seen a lot of shit. I’m not some stereotype- I'm not j-just some dumb drooling teen, with-with a hard-on. If you don't want it fine, but stop acting like I don't know what I want."

This was a bad idea. Rick was drunk and angrier than he was before. And the conversation was making him increasingly frustrated. He didn't want Morty trying to justify things like this. It was starting to stress him out. God, Morty was such a fucking moron. 

"UM, Ea-euuugh-rth to Morty, I'm acting like that ‘cuz that's exactly what's going on. God, I can't believe you're so dumb you need me to spell this shit out. You wanna fuck around, wanna, “act out fantasies” with me? You have no fucking clue what that even means, what it'll do, you stupid little fuck. You wanna talk about going through crazy shit, life ruining shit, Morty? You wanna talk about feeling, being ostracized, Morty? You really wanna talk about resentment, abuse, control, the-the dynamics of pedo-fucking-philia Morty?! You're just thinking with your boner, which, whatever, I get it, you're stupid. But don't act like this is some well-reasoned proposition. You're being a fucking moron." At some point during this, Rick had noticed both the urge to reach up and shake Morty by the shoulders for emphasis and a strange hesitancy keeping him from doing so. Annoyed, he haphazardly threw a bottle at Morty instead. Morty easily ducked it, unperturbedly waiting for him to finish.

"Rick, I'm not asking for some terrible spiraling relationship. I'm not, I know I'm not like, madly in love with you, you know? Just, like, a one shot, or something. I'm not expecting anything. Like a, like a scientific experiment," he added, fighting a blush desperately. 

“Morty, just think of it this way, let me, let me see if I can simplify this down enough for your puny little mind”. Rick took a swig and turned the ship downwards with a lazy swat. “There are two reasons, two re-auuugh-reasons why you would actually, in real life want me to fuck you, ever. One, you're hoping, you're hoping that I'll treat you like a, like a fucking baby. That I'll act all nice, the seme to your uke, or wha-aught-tever, and I'll be your big daddy, then and-and probably later on in the other parts of our relationship." He paused and took another deep swig from his flask, wiping his mouth and looking away from driving, at Morty. 

"Two, two, you're hoping it'll make me treat you like an equal, like an adult, a big grown up mature enough to make all kinds of choices, like b-big fucking groo-ouugh-wn-up decisions about fucking Grandpa.” Morty started to speak and Rick cut him off mercilessly. "The problem, the fucking problem is Mo-ourgh-ty, that I’m not a BABY fucker. And you, are not my fucking equal,” he finished, smirking somewhat cross eyed-ly. 

He finished landed the ship lurchily in the garage. "Sooo," he belched, unbuckling his seatbelt and sprawling in his chair closing his eyes, " Therefore good night to you, Mo-uurgh-ty, and have all the sweet one-sided w-wet dreams your perverted little heart can handle. Not my b-auuugh-bag bro." At this, his head head fell backwards and he passed out, snoring loudly. Morty went into the house and to dinner, explaining to an eye rolling Beth that Rick was sleeping in his ship and wouldn't be coming. 

 

Rick woke up the next morning with a hangover, as expected, but also with an unwelcome sense of nervousness, of maybe even a bit of fear as he rifled through his memories last night, remembering when he awoke that he had been pissed at Morty for being a fidgety bitch and started arguing with him about his fucking incest shit. 

Thank god. He had been a dick, sure, whatever, but it was all just words, he hadn't done anything really aggressive, and he hadn't let himself get riled up enough that he did something stupid just to prove the annoying little bastard wrong. He was annoyed at his relief, annoyed at the whole fucking bullshit of having this to worry about, and annoyed at Morty for being a stupid shit. 

Rick sighed, stood and stretched. Drinking was a necessity in such times, but in and of itself was now something to have waste time worrying about. Rick certainly was less trustworthy when he drank, and it's not like he could depend on sexual hang ups, of which he had none, to stop him. He knew the sheer perversity of what Morty was asking for, to be honest, could work well enough as an attraction to a small part of his mind. 

He was reasonably certain that even an alcohol-soaked sliver of his normal intellect would be smart enough to recognize it as a bad idea, but he resented having to think about these new possible consequences to his drinking. Ughhh. He felt like he was gonna puke though anyway. He'd take a break from the liquor for a few hours. Some part of him was almost dreading another day fucking around in space with Morty if it was gonna be like yesterday, but his stubbornness persevered. Where was the little bastard? Meh, he might as well work on something, chill out and wait out his hangover. 

Eventually Morty came around, mercifully seeming less twitchy and mopey than yesterday, and they sped off together, this time to deliver the harvested algae to a somewhat shady processing station. When they were heading back home that evening, Rick had to admit to being surprised, even proud of Morty. 

The kid had seemed to take his words to heart, shoving aside all of the previous day’s weirdness to be his normal self, and even being tremendously helpful in a few tight spots when the deal inevitably went sour. Rick felt relaxed, and relieved, a smile playing at his lips as he lazily swung the ship around some debris as they passed down into the atmosphere. He had a pretty strong buzz on, but it was a nice one. Morty really was a strong little fucker. He'd handled all the bullshit Rick threw the two of them into over the years, and even grown from it. He'd always be a weird little shit, but honestly, that was half the reason Rick started taking him places. 

It felt good, he allowed himself in a rare moment of rumination, to have hard evidence that Morty was improving from their relationship. He would have never been capable of quick thinking under pressure or situational awareness like the kind he showed today before Rick came along. It made Rick feel like sometimes he gave a bit, instead of just taking. Inspired, he swung his arm out, offering his flask up to Morty with a cheeky grin, laughing when it was turned down with all the expected grimacing and fuss. It was nice, relaxing. True to the rest of his life, it was inevitable that someone would fuck it up, and not very surprising that it was Rick himself that did it. 

"Morty, you know, I didn't mean, mean to kink shame you or wha-uuught-ever, the other day. It's, I'm never fond of awkward problems, you know, Morty. And that's, that's a lotta shit to drop on a guy. And you know, I don't want, I don't want you to think I don't understand the idea of-of having an itch to scratch," He was babbling. He really should stop. "So you know what Morty, I'm gonna- I'm gonna buy you a hooker." Goddam it. Silence reigned for a second, but Rick’s mouth persevered on, drunk and stupid like it always was when he was feeling earnest. "Like a, a shapeshifting hooker. It'll do anything, look like anything you want, Jessica, mermaids, aliens, anything...anything you want." God fucking damn it, what was wrong with him. 

Morty’s eyes were wide, then pondering as he took a few moments before responding. Rick didn't even know what he hoped Morty was gonna say, he was too busy kicking himself internally for offering in the first place. Hiring a hooker for his grandson was shady enough. Hiring one with the implication it was gonna be used to help act out his grandson’s fantasies about him, was a bit close to crossing some line, surely. 

Mortys mouth opened and closed a few times, but when his voice finally emerged, it was surprisingly calm. "You know what, Rick, I appreciate that offer. I-I really, I really do. But... I don't know, I don't think I'm interested. It's like, it would kinda miss the point. Like, it's not like I have an old man fetish or a-a grandfather kink to act out. It's a sort of, of you-centric interest kind of thing." He shrugged. "Oh well, thanks for offering, really." 

Rick was actually kind of surprised. He really thought the pervy little fuck would want any chance to act out his little obsession. Part of him was a bit annoyed at a missed opportunity to neatly solve this problem with relatively minimal fuss and scarring for them both. And part of him, a more basic part felt.. smug. The kid really wanted just him, huh? Well, that left him with far fewer options to solve this.

He felt the mockingly lecherous "damn, bitch" or some other reflexive nonsense begin to form in his mouth and Rick froze. That was it. That was the first moment when, for just a split second, he had actually considered having sex with his grandson. The realization made him feel a bit sick, made his heart speed up, but he kept his face level and his tone uncaring. "Sure, whatever Morty. Just, trying, trying to spare us any more of your teen angst." He grunted, taking a shamelessly deep drink from his flask.

Morty seemed fine, content even, kicking his heel absently against the floor. Rick felt like he was gonna throw up. 

 

But then, thank god, that was the end of it. Days, weeks, months passed. There were no terrifying conversations, no odd behaviors from Morty, no uncomfortable unspoken questions brimming in his eyes, nothing. In fact the kid seemed better than ever, keeping mission fuck-ups on his part to an all-time minimal, but otherwise seeming normal.

Rick was probably the odd one himself, early on, having to struggle to control snappish behavior fueled by guilt and worry and uncomfortable dithering of his own. But as time passed and nothing happened, no further confrontations over the issue reared their heads, he started to relax and try to give himself a pass. Nothing had happened, no terrible moment of trying and failing to control destructive impulses. And a single stray thought, a simple moment of idle speculation, was nothing too condemning. Rick had speculated on having sex with half of the known objects in the galaxy. A spare moment on his grandson was nothing special, was even to be expected given the surreal situation that was going on at the time. And Morty seemed to have let things go, without any lingering weirdness to taint the relationship. Everything was cool. 

When out of the blue one evening, Morty walked up to him as he was tinkering in the garage and blushingly asked if Rick remembered "those conversations, you know, a-about- um, you and I, you know, that we had a couple months ago," Rick really did almost throw up.

The easy swig of liquor he had just begun to swallow spluttered and went down the wrong pipe, causing chaotic coughing for a few moments. Rick pounded his chest and his desk, making sure to hit his fist off a small button on a box in one corner as he gasped. The kid was gonna give him a stroke. 

"Jesus-cough-fuck, Mo- cough-rty, uh yeah, the-the incest thing? Yeah, I remember.”

Good god was he still pining over that? Was he reconsidering the hooker? Rick smoothed his breath over the throb of dread in his stomach. He didn't know how he was gonna handle it, if Morty was gonna keep bringing this up for all eternity. 

“Well I'm, I'm still interested,” he began.

“Ohhhhh my Goddd Morty, such a surprise,” Rick groaned, clutching his face.

"Rick just listen- just wait. Let me finish." 

Rick moaned dramatically, but Morty talked over him, "I know this is a big deal, that playing with this kind of shit can- can ruin lives. I know it's the kind of thing that can lead to fucked up, imbalanced relationships, and-and I realize that more codependency or-or lack of boundaries in our relationship could ruin us." 

He ignored Rick’s muttered "big boy words" and plowed on, "I'm not asking for a real, a valid sexual r-relationship. I'm not- I'm not looking for something to alter what we have going on here. I don't want that. You're Rick and I'm Morty, and, and we have a pretty nice setup out here, doing what we do. This is just something that I've thought about,"

"God, Morty c-cut to the fu-eeugh-king chase already," Rick belched. He could feel random muscles twitching nervously. He hoped like fuck Morty couldn't tell. He didn't need this shit.

Morty didn't react, just looked at him straight-gazed. "This is something I've wanted to experience for a long time. I've thought about it a lot, and I've considered the potential consequences many times. I'm not looking to mess with you or me, I'm just asking you as, as one-one person to another to consider helping me experience something I have wanted for a very long time."

Rick was not happy. Morty was way too calm and collected, way too sure of himself. He didn't think he had ever heard the little asshole argue something more consistently. He needed to push him off-balance, trip him back down into being awkward and silly and childish. "Morty, what in the fucking world makes you- makes you think I would ever want to have sex with your scrawny, pimpled hide,” he snarled, smirking unpleasantly, "You-you-you really think I'd even be able to get it up for your whiney, pathetic, virgin bullshit? You ever consider, consider MY feelings on the subject?" He needed him to get upset. If this kept being so calm and reasoned, he knew part of him would be impressed. He didn't want to test his feelings of moral obligation against reasoning. Ricks were not good people. 

Morty blushed a bit, but responded in the same too-level tone, "I just want to try. If you can't," His ears went a tiny bit redder, "can't get it up, then no harm, no foul. That's ok, that's the experience. I'm just asking you again because I think you're- you’re even more concerned about what this would do to me. And so, I wanted you to know that I've considered it over and over. I understand what's at stake, I know what I want from this, and for me the chance to actually get to do this once is worth the risks." His arm came down, somewhat jerkily but without retreat, as he said the last of it to grasp Rick’s shoulder, squeezing and turning the man to look directly at him. 

Morty looked calm and in control. Rick was panicking. At least, part of him was, and he could feel that part slowly quieting, which scared him even more. He suddenly remembered an aside he had said, coming back after the Evil Rick with the tortured Morties mind shield debacle. Feeling guilty, and somewhat emotional, from the stress of the day’s events, he had said something nice and dumb about “Mortiest Morties”, and watched Morty’s face shine. Something about it made his stomach lurch unpleasantly, and he had immediately thrown out an insult to balance things back out, and warned Morty not to get cocky, that it could lead to big problems that wouldn't be good for anybody. Morty had asked why, and he said "I'll explain it when you're older", a glib sounding joke that was, even then, faintly suspicious of himself, of what that lurch meant, what a "cocky" Morty could accomplish or an overly bold one might set off.

And at that awkward, brave squeeze on his shoulder, he felt it. He felt the second moment when he damned himself, felt the small stir low in his gut. If his lust came sniffing around, throwing its weight beside the relentless cold voice repeating Morty’s words to Rick, reminding him of his disregard for bullshit family ties, and of all the times he had expounded on the merits of his hedonist, laissez-faire outlook, then Rick was in trouble. Ricks didn't deny themselves. What Ricks wanted, they took. 

He groaned, putting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. But he didn't move sharply enough to move Morty’s hand from his shoulder. Rick guessed that meant he didn't want it to move. It was all over. For a moment, absurdly, he felt like crying. 

"Rick?," Morty began quietly in a minute, hand still on his shoulder, peering down at his face, "Its..it'll be ok." 

He really wasn't sure that it would. Rick pulled his head back up, sitting up and finally dislodging Morty’s hand. He gazed off into middle distance for a bit, his brain spinning into gear as, choice being made, new options and plans and contingencies sprang up with a whirl and ordered themselves.

He tried his best to ignore the disquieting awareness that Ricks manipulate. Ricks were bad in general, and he was certainly one of the worse ones. But there was no point in refusing to confront the obvious. He could either get on top of this, or he could ignore the issue and wait around until one day his control snapped. Morty had chosen this, wanted this, and Rick was a supergenius. He could find a way to do this, to controlled-ly, responsibly, fuck his grandson. 

The breakdown, regroup, and reformulation of a significant chunk of what he had considered his worldview as it pertained to his grandson took less than four seconds, so he was able to reply somewhat smoothly, with a confidence he didn't feel. "Alright Morty, here's how it's gonna go down." 

Morty stood over Rick, eyes slightly widened but gaze intent. He had never seen Rick look so seriously at him, with eyes pinned to his as he spoke, "There's costs to this. Cost number one, if we engage in any part of this, no one, do you understand me, I mean absolutely no one can ever, ever know." His eyes were hard.

"No confession to friends, no stoned conversation with Summer. It goes beyond saying that your parents, that Beth, will never ever be able to know. Not even when I'm dead. You will be alone with this knowledge." 

Morty nodded, eyes wider, and murmured, "Ok." 

Rick sighed and took another breath. This was already so much stupid stress he didn't want.

"Cost number two. Anything we do, I'm holding ultimate veto power over. If I say it ain't happening, it ain't happening. We can be mid-fuck," Morty’s eyes were gonna fall out, "And I say it's over forever, never to be spoken of, then it's over, regardless of how you feel, and you are going to let it go."

Mortys brows lowered a bit, but he nodded and said ok just the same. Rick took a quick nervous swig at his flask. This one, honestly, gave him the most pause, both because of the seriousness of the idea, and for the abuse it could seem to imply.

"Cost number three. If-if we do it, and things are not ok after. You're all weird and not coping, or our relationship gets all... fucked up somehow, I reserve the right to erase it, Morty, to take away the memory of what we did. F-from both of us, if need be." Morty looked stunned, then hesitant, his eyes narrowing back down slightly.

"Why... what do you mean by both of us, if-if need be." He looked both slightly accusatory and ashamed. It actually made Rick burst out laughing, bizarrely feeling a bit relieved, somehow. 

"You, you little- fuck yeah, Morty, use that brain! That does sound fucking fishy, right? Well, the issue is, Morty, I can't predict exactly what kind of fucked-upness will occur, can I?Bummer, am I- am I right?,” He gave a devilish grin. Here was a chance to scare him off. 

“There's no saying whether, given the situation, it would be safer for me to just take your memories, or take both of ours. And no, this hasn't happened before. First time, ba-euugh-baby. Not that you can be sure, of course,” He paused with a smirk, taking another swig. "You would just have to trust my word of honor, Morty. And gooood intentions, Mmmorty,” he said with a sardonic leer, "One of those pesky problems, am I, am I right? But that's the cost of doing this." He was starting to feel a bit nauseous again.

Morty looked at him for a while, but not long enough for Rick’s uneasy stomach to subside before nodding, "Ok. I accept those costs. When- h-how are we doing this?" 

Rick closed his eyes, and took another drink from his flask, one that he could already feel was self-aware, was calculated precisely to get him drunker without getting too drunk, without risking danger in this new environment. So this was it. It was actually happening.

He tried to sigh away his lingering misgivings. If he was gonna pull this off he had to walk a fine line between too mopey and too eager, striving towards constant perfect neutral. "Not tonight,” he said, flatly.

"Too late, too tired... A-Actually not this week," One last lifeline appeared to him. "Take the time to make sure you know what you're doing, you fucking imbecile, fuck knows you need it”, he muttered, rubbing his face, then made himself stop. 

"Seven whole days to really think this over. Then we'll- then we'll talk in my room." He already knew he was gonna get practically no sleep this week. 

Morty nodded yet again, all solemn-faced, but his eyes were excited. "Ok, seven days to think it over. I understand. Thank you-thank you, Rick." He fidgeted, seemed at a bit of a loss, then left, flashing him a quick lopsided smile on his way out. For the first time in forever, Rick felt too mixed up to drink. He didn't want to sleep in his room tonight, and carted his carcass off to crash in his ship. 

 

The next week went way too fast, to Rick’s growing anxiety. Morty had been mute on the subject, offering up nothing in word or action to get a read on, normal as can be, and driving Rick half insane with distraction as he wondered what was going through the kid’s head, if (please) a backpedaling was approaching.

Eventually, however, the week came to an end with no release from obligation in sight. Rick had alternately sat on his worries, planned them to death, and drowned them in liquor, and felt prepared for whatever was coming this evening. He debated the appropriate alcohol level for this activity, weighing the merits of whiskey dick against the potential loss of control, and stuck to an unhappy medium, just enough to keep him drunk enough to face this, but sober enough to be aware.

He sat in his room, which he made himself sleep in after that first depressing night, and had even caught himself fitfully cleaning on occasion throughout the week, much to his disgust. That was not control. This was control. He was relaxed and armed with plans, relaxed and waiting, if need be, to be sexually intimate with his grandson tonight. With Morty. With his grandson, Morty. He caught the slippery edge of his nerves and viciously stomped them back down. 

A knock on his door. He took a nervous chug. Morty. Re-relaxing his constantly tensing muscles, he sat on the floor with his back against one of the walls of his tiny room. He made sure the grunt he gave in response was flat and uninterested. "Co-oough-me in." 

Morty entered the room, shutting the door behind him, and turning to look at Rick. One look at his face and Rick knew they were screwed. The kid had not been dissuaded. He had one more line of questioning planned, though. He swung his arm over to the dark blue box covered in speakers on the floor near him, smacking a button on.

"What-what was that?" Morty asked, nervously. 

"That's a silencer, Mo-oughrty. Even this conversation would be- would be devastating if overheard. So we're using a silencer."

"Alright Morty. So we're gonna do a bit of a recap here. Please, please, feel free to stop me if I miss anything. So you're here, in my bedroom right now. You're here because you have incest wank fantasies about me, that you-you feel really strongly should get a chance to be expressed in real life. Anything to add so far?" He paused for another somewhat longer swig. 

"No that’s, that's pretty fair so far Rick,"

"Excellent Morty, that's just great. You insist that the risks in engaging in such behavior are outweighed by, by the "experience" of it. Whatever. So I'm asking you, why?"

"Huh?"

"What's so great about this- these particular files from your spank bank that you neeeed the chance to do them for real? Why is it worth it? You know who I am Morty. I'm a fucking danger to us-to us both. This is a stupid fucking idea. They better be something real special."

" Jeez Rick, you know, I honestly kinda thought we were done having this conversation"

"Bite me Morty. Absolute veto, rem-remember? Answer me or get the fuck out."

"Alright Rick, just, just give me a second to get my thoughts together." Rick sighed and rolled his eyes, but waited. 

"My fantasies and my dreams, about- about you, they aren't all the same, you know." His eyes darted to Rick’s, then flickered away. "We do, uh, different stuff, sometimes you're ah-agg-aggressive. Sometimes I-I am. But it's always fun, you know. Because it's just Rick and Morty, and it's another insane adventure. And one perk of my life is that I get to do, get to see all kinds of crazy, awesome shit. I know-I know sometimes it's not awesome”, he added quickly, seeing Rick open his mouth to say something.

"But the point is, I get to experience shit no one else on the whole planet does. So I guess I'm, I'm not that bothered by it being weird or impossible or dangerous, cuz everything else always is, right? And this is a weird thing, that, well, seems to have the potential at least to be pretty cool to try out. And I trust you. Not limitlessly Rick, not mindlessly," he rushed, seeing clouds brewing again on Rick's face "But for this? I trust you enough. I trust both of us enough. You've shown me all kinds of crazy shit and I'm still here. What's one more thing?" He ended with a bit of a self-conscious grin. 

Rick gazed at Morty’s face. He wasn't sure if this really helped him make a decision at all. It always came down to the same questions. Did Morty deserve to have his opinions treated as valid? Was Rick even capable of being responsible enough for this?

Oh well. He shrugged, shook his head back and forth a bit, and took a deep fortifying chug from his flask. "Well, I guess that's answer enough. I tried- tried to warn you how stupid and risky this is, that your teenage mind is gonna take this, and-and twist it into something nuts and I'm gonna have to wipe your brain."

"Yes Rick.” Goddamn it, the kid almost sounded a little amused. 

"Well, all right beuuugh-buckaroo! Let's get going. What's on the agenda for tonight?"

"Wait, what? W-what do you mean?"

"I mean, what are we doing? What scenes from-from Morty's grandpa-sex playbook are we acting out here? Te-euuuugh-tell me what to do." He grinned unapologetically at Morty's sudden flustered, unsure look. 

"Well, jeez, Rick, I kind of thought that you, that you would sort of take charge here." 

"No, nooooo can do there, Morty. For this, for this kind of shit, I'm letting you lead the way. This is your parade Morty, you si- you signed up for it. So, tell me, what you want me to do."

"Oh-okay. Um, I want you, I want you to touch me"

"Where? On the head? On the dick? Are we staying right here, standing, sitting, lying?"

"Goddamit Rick I know you- you're being difficult on purpose." Rick laughed at him "Just get- get on the bed. And take, take your shirt off."

Rick clambered over and sat rather woodenly on the bed, all humor suddenly leaving him. Morty stood, staring at him avidly as his hands slowly reached for his shirt, grasped the edges, then flung it off almost agitatedly. He looked up at Morty. The kid already looked amazed, his hands twitching slightly. Rick shoved his stupid fucking nerves and his slight blush down once again. "What now, Morty," he said somewhat flatly. 

Morty reached over, shaking just a bit, and put his hand on Rick's chest, hesitating. Then, in a burst of courage he slung his leg over Rick’s, sitting on his lap and facing him. "Ok, ok, ok. Um, would you to-take off my shirt and touch me, um I guess, touch me starting with the chest, and then... southwards? He finished, face screwed up a bit like a fidgety dumbass.

Internally Rick was a mix of bemusement, relief, and distaste that things were proceeding in such a grade school fashion. He proceeded with a carefully neutral face to take off Morty’s shirt in an almost brisk manner, though he didn't miss Morty gasp when his fingers brushed against his sides while grabbing the shirt. Eyes glancing to Morty’s face briefly, he placed his hand on his chest, a bit above the left nipple. He moved his hand slowly, in short movements downwards, pausing as he neared Morty's nipple. He looked up at Morty again. They were so fucking close, with Morty sitting practically on top of him and it was surprisingly surreal to look down and see their chests so close, naked, and in this situation.

"You-you know Morty, if at any point you change-change your mind, any point during-during any of this you decide you're done, you just tell me and no questions, no-no jokes, we will stop and go on with our lives." He hated the nervousness he swore he could hear leaking through his voice.

"I'm fine Rick, thanks for letting me know though. You can go on though, you know, get-get a move on."

Mortys eyes were wide, but there was a hint of a smirk chasing around the edges of his mouth and that's why Rick became annoyed with himself, when he slipped his hand lower suddenly and stopped, his thumb and index finger pressed loosely around either side of Morty's nipple, and began moving his thumb back and forth, towards and away. He was annoyed because he knew he did in retaliation, because Morty annoyed him, not out of acquiescent to Morty's commands. This might have been a bad idea. 

Morty let out a little gasp and said, "Rick, can- would you kiss me?"

Well, he couldn't say he didn't expect that to come at some point. Here went nothing. He moved both hands to Morty’s shoulders, leaned in, and kissed him, softly, almost chastely, lingering no more than a second or two. Morty’s hand flew up to his hair, tugging him down when he started to lean away then darting off quickly, nervously, as Rick stopped moving. 

"Um, more," he said, laughing nervously a bit, "More and, um, with more-more passion Rick. Don't be a robot. I'm sure on this stuff. Let's go." 

Rick glared at him for a second, then lowered his mouth again, catching the boy's lower lip lightly, coaxing his mouth open, and slipping his tongue just inside. He had his eyes closed but could hear a quiet moan. 

From simple training, his hand went up to Morty's face to cup it as their kiss deepened. Morty moaned again and he clutched Rick’s hair and side, tugging him closer. That was definitely Morty's dick he could feel now, pressing through jeans as he moaned in Rick's lap. 

Rick took this moment to reflect on his own dick, and it's so-far interest in the proceedings. There was definitely some reflexive arousal going on, but nothing remarkable. Which was good. Control. 

His eyes widened when Morty suddenly moved his hand on Rick’s side over to the man’s stomach, touching lightly over his belly button before moving it, nervously but purposefully, down to press at Rick's crotch. Rick was a bit annoyed by the hitch in his breath that prompted, but he couldn't help it, it had just been a surprise. "J-Jesus, Morty."

"I'm sorry," Morty replied, quickly and anxiously, hand moving off and held stupidly in the air a few inches away. 

"No, it's fine. This is your show. Whatever you want to try is fine." Rick was starting to feel more confident about this. It was all so nervous, so awkward for both of them. The chance of him getting so worked up he truly forgot to care exactly who he was fooling around with seemed impossibly remote. He might actually be able to pull this off. "Do, do whatever you want, Morty."

The hand returned to his groin, and after a moment's pause, began to press and rub up and down. Morty seemed torn between looking at his hand and Rick’s face. His eyes widened and an odd choked noise squeaked out of his mouth when he felt Rick's dick shift and grow slightly harder under his ministrations. 

"You alright there, kiddo?" Rick asked, a smirk playing with his lips. 

"Yeah," Morty breathed, meeting his eyes. He looked more than alright. He looked very turned on, flushed with pupils wide. Jesus, the kid was such an easy little horn-dog. He resumed what he was doing and pulled Rick down into another kiss. "Rick," he muttered urgently in between breaths, "p-please touch me. Like, just s-skip a couple steps." 

Rick swallowed the sudden urge to demand to know where this was going, what exactly Morty was planning on having happen. This controlled relinquishment of control was uncomfortable. But this was Morty's show, he'd let it play out. Rick could handle whatever this kid wanted to dish out, and he knew Morty would insist he could handle it as well.

He moved his hands down to Morty's pants while Morty held his head, kissed him desperately. He unzipped, and tugged them down a bit, exposing a line of underwear. He slipped his hand down inside, and placed his hand around Morty's dick, giving a few brief strokes, then pausing and breaking off the kiss to look at Morty's face. He could feel the cock in his hand twitch and throb in his loose hold, but he ignored it, staring at his grandson. 

At the pause Morty's eyes shot to his dick in grandfather's hand, then back up to Rick. He nodded frantically, said "P-please Rick," and gave a quiet, lustful moan when Rick resumed stroking, tightening his grip. 

Rick was far more rapidly excited by a moaning, lustful partner than a nervous one. It was just how he had always been. So it was no surprise when he felt his own dick perk up to greater attention than before, beginning to twitch a bit with Morty's continued moans. It didn't matter, he was in control. He sped up his pace, one hand moving to the small of Morty's back as the kid jerked, his hips starting to move unsteadily. 

"R-rick, that feels so good. Thank you thank you thank you. Keep-keep going." Morty moaned, gasping as Rick slipped his hand a bit lower to hold his ass. He wasn't sure if Morty was saying these things to reassure him, or because it turned him on to say them. He guessed it didn't matter. 

Morty suddenly grabbed at his pants, "Fuck, I, I wanna be naked," he said, standing and shucking his own off quickly, gesturing at Rick. His face was flushed, a bit sweaty, his lips swollen slightly from the kissing, but he seemed bizarrely unembarrassed at standing before his grandfather, naked with a hard on. 

Rick stared at his grandson for a second, trying to reconcile what he was seeing with everything he had already known about Morty. The kid looked… older, somehow, than Rick had expected. Maybe it was the uncharacteristic confidence. Maybe it wasn't actually his Morty. He was just being weak, being wishful, he knew it wasn't possible.

He had already checked yet again yesterday that this was,indeed, Morty and not a drone, alternative universe spy, or some other kind of trick. He always ran standard multiverse signature tests on the kid, just in case, and the sheer bizarreness of this whole situation had ramped up his paranoia. But no, this was his Morty, there was no escaping that.

He moved to take his own pants off, a bit uncomfortable with Morty's gaze. But he knew, as he pulled his pants off, that it was a predictable uncomfortableness that could only lead to one effect- his dick, once fully exposed, was erect. 

Morty took it in avidly for a second, looking almost giddy, before moving to sit on the bed. He leaned back and took Rick's hand with him, placing it back on his cock as he pulled the older man down, so that Rick was now partially on top of him as they laid on the bed. 

He pulled Rick’s head down for another kiss, almost bruising the man with its pressure, saying heatedly between breaths, "You have no- you have no fucking idea- how much I- wanted to do this." 

Rick can't help but be amused, and somewhat amazed, once again, at Morty's boldness and determination. That had almost been smooth, well, before the dweeb had started babbling like a horny bitch. Well, fuck it, he bet he could really blow the pervy little fucker's mind. 

He smirked at Morty, and leaned over to grab at a jar that he had placed on the table by his bed what felt like hours ago. Swiftly getting a small palmful, he started stroking the boy again in earnest, lube sliding up and down the shaft. 

"Ohhhh G-God Rick! That's that's fantastic." 

He couldn't help but feel smug at how much Morty had fallen apart at his simple, fairly tame touch. It felt like winning an argument. It was an inarguably pleasant sensation, the power of pleasing a particularly responsive partner. Nothing personal, Rick reminded himself as his dick throbbed irksomely. It was nothing unexpected. 

"Rick. Will you-will you fuck me?"

There it was. So that was the plan for the evening. Rick steeled himself with a breath, looked up at Morty, matching his face to his nervous but eager words, and muttered, "Alright."

He returned to the jar, grabbing more of the lube and spread Morty's legs. "You ever- you ever play with your ass before, Morty?"

"Yeah, a-a lot. It's nothing new Rick, don't worry," Morty replied, blushing. Rick rolled his eyes, but reached down and placed one finger slowly, lightly over his anus, pressing slightly. 

Morty gasped. Before Rick could give himself a brief moment to control the sense of surreality that had washed back in, that here he was contemplating how best to open up his grandson to fuck, Morty jerked his hips upward, pushing the tip of Rick's finger inside of him, and bearing down until he was seated knuckle deep. He groaned like a trained whore as he speared himself, and Rick, feeling like something was breaking in him as his heart rate picked up, moaned a bit as well before he choked it back. 

He began pumping his finger in and out of Morty, watching him squirm, listening to the wanton moans that the kid gave out. They were so foreign, yet so familiarly Morty. He slid in another finger as Morty played lazily with his own dick, and began to scissor him open. 

He was fighting between fear and arousal. Ricks take what they want, and they don't give it back. He dominated the kid in every other area without a thought, without remorse. What would make this different? Rick was a junkie. If the feeling of fucking his grandson was something he liked enough, would anything stop him from taking what he wanted? 

He pushed in with three fingers, feeling Morty push backwards onto his hand with a moan, feeling Morty start to fuck himself on his fingers. It was overwhelming. He made himself breathe, in and out. 

The kid was loosened enough, and looked ready to float with excitement and lust, when Rick darted his gaze once more to his face. For a second, Rick just stared, momentarily almost at a loss. "You-you want it like this? Doggy style is easier on you, you know. Hurts less." 

Morty just nodded eagerly, frantically, “this-this is good”, still pushing himself down on Rick's fingers. Rick withdrew them to a whining grunt from Morty. He threw one of the kid’s legs up on his shoulder. His dick twitched as he took it in hand and slathered lube on it. His head was swirling alarmingly, he suddenly realized, and his stomach churned so much that he wondered briefly if he was gonna be sick. 

He lined himself up, dick pressed against Morty's opening, and started to push inwards.

Did he trust himself? The question echoed in his mind. Would he end this for Morty’s sake, even if he didn't want to? Rick didn't know, he didn't have an answer. Morty's anus was twitching as he pressed against it and he was gasping around him as his head began to breach through. It was tight, too fucking tight, and Morty let out a grunt that seemed tinged with pain.

"Morty, you have to- you have to push down for this to work. You gotta relax," he somehow managed to say. How had he gotten here? This was starting to feel like some fucked dream. He gritted his teeth and reached down to take Morty's dick in his hand, stroking firmly and evenly. 

When Morty took a breath and his muscles unclenched, Rick pushed in, bearing down slowly and it felt amazing, it all seriously felt amazing, and it was a disaster. There was no way he was pushing this new dope away. He knew he was gonna give himself what he wanted, like he always did. The person he was the most afraid of losing, and he was gonna do what he always did, fuck things up, he was gonna go until he drained him dry. It was natural, even, an obvious extension to everything he had already taken from Morty. Ricks took what they wanted.

Morty was so tight, felt so good, he was so very easily debauched. Rick could see the future spinning out in front of him. He could see himself cajoling, seducing, dominating, whatever it took to keep getting what he wanted, what was so easily in his reach. He was gonna ruin his grandson, and he was gonna make them both love it. Nausea and arousal swirled around and around, almost indistinguishable, and his heart was pounding. 

And then, amazingly, like a miracle or punishment personally delivered to him by a merciful or scornful god, he felt it. He felt his erection twitch, then begin to wilt. 

Rick froze, so taken aback, so many emotions, chagrin and shock joining fear, shame and panic, running through his head that his brain seized up for a minute.

He rebooted after a few moments, still pressed up with an increasingly drooping cock just barely inside his grandson, and an insane urge to giggle, to start laughing hysterically, beginning to crawl up his throat that he shoved away. 

"Uh, Morty, um, we got a problem here buddy." 

"What's-what's going on Rick?" 

"I'm uh, I'm not gonna be able to do this. I'm-I'm pushing rope here, man." He sat back, and couldn't help the blush that he could feel spread over him at the cliched phrase. He had gotten whiskey dick before, sure, that's even something he was sort of hoping for going into this, but fear-wilting was new territory for him, more inherently embarrassing. He wondered, absurdly, if this would at least remind Morty of just how old he was, make him less desirable. 

"Oh..." Morty had gone beet red. "Uh, ok- that's ok. I said that would be ok. If you can't do- can't stomach this, that's ok. You gave it a shot, that's- that's all I can ask." He was curling back in on himself as he spoke, dick still hard and angry looking, but a look of shame taking over his face. "I appreciate you, you know, hu-humoring me. I know it wasn't really something you wanted." Silence stretched across the room.

Rick sighed. Morty’s pitifulness was making him stupid, as usual. He felt weird seeing the kid be the one looking so ashamed about this. "Morty, look," he was already annoyed at himself for what he was going to say. This was a perfect time to end it all, to save them all. But that fucking face bothered him, and he was a bit peeved, despite himself, that his equipment had failed him. He hated feeling embarrassed, and he hated feeling like he let Morty down. And god help him, he just wasn't completely willing to let this just die, "We can- we can do something else. I'm not, fucking-fucking traumatized, it's just whiskey dick. Take a fucking chill." 

"Okay, are you... are you sure Rick?" He asked with wide eyes, looking almost like a fucking puppy.

"Yeah, how about a, how 'bout a switch, Morty. Wanna- wanna do grandpa?" He couldn't help the smirk, it was as natural as breathing. He knew, from the hitch in Morty's breath, the jerk of his hands and his dick that the idea was a very welcome one.

He knew that somehow this was a far more palatable idea for himself, and at this point that was all that mattered. There was a lot less guilt tied with the arousal that flickered back to life inside him, as Morty babbled, "Yeah that-that would be good. That would be great. Ok." 

Rick turned and shoved himself backward until his back was up against the wall, legs lying splayed slightly on the bed. Staring at Morty as he moved- he didn't know why he was looking at Morty like that, maybe to punish himself, maybe because he liked it- he reached his hand between his legs and began to play with himself, teasing his hole with a finger while his other hand went to his dick, beginning to tug at it absently. 

Morty looked stunned, slack-jawed, and seemed to jerk, moving closer to Rick, before catching himself and subsiding back to watch, avid. His hand went to his cock, and, blushing when he caught Rick's eye, he started jerking off when Rick plunged his finger deep inside himself. 

Rick was no initiate to ass play. This wasn't going to take long. He added two, then three fingers in quick succession, suddenly feeling eager to get this over with. 

Morty fisted his cock somewhat feverishly. Rick's was back to decent hardness, due to his effective prep work (and, a voice reminded him, due to the fact that the situation was turning him on.) He shoved those thoughts aside and asked, voice more uneven than he wanted, "You r-ready for this?

Morty's breathless "fuck yes" sealed the deal. The kid scuttled closer to Rick, then hesitated. "Just, just go for it?"

"God, yes, Morty just go for it." 

Morty went for it. Quickly pulling Rick’s hip up with one hand and lining up his dick with the other, he thrust in with a shocking lack of hesitation, like he was worried Rick would change his mind again. 

Rick groaned loudly at the swift entry, his cock throbbing in time with the slight burn. Jesus fucking Christ. He barely had time to be annoyed before Morty started moving back and forth, deep and forcefully. He quickly gained speed until he was hammering away into him, both hands holding tight enough to Rick's ass to bruise. Rick was, once again, shocked by how good it felt. He was going to go crazy, this kid was actually going to drive him insane.

"God, d-damn it Morty. You've-you been taking l-lessons?" 

Weak. That was more come-on than snark, it sounded fucking cock-hungry. In his own defense, he had done his best to stay on top of this, genuinely tried to stay detached from his own sexual needs for both their best interests, but enough was enough. This was enough to break a saint. His prostate was being pushed past over and over, so thoroughly his toes were curling, and his brain was turning to mush. He could almost feel himself stop caring. His cock was screaming at him for attention, and he grabbed at it ferociously as Morty gave a particularly brutal lucky press against his prostate. 

Morty gave out an almost anguished moan at seeing Rick touch himself with such abandon. He swung Rick's legs up onto his shoulders and leaned in, almost folding him in half and driving so thoroughly down into him that Rick's vision fuzzed for a brief instant, before resuming with rolling, almost punishing strokes.  
"Ahhh, Rick," he gibbered, "you feel-you feel soo good." 

Rick felt his arousal notch up a bit further. Morty was looking at him like he had never seen him before, like he was seeing a vision. Rick squeezed his hand on his dick harshly, groaning loudly, as Morty continued battering into him. He reminded himself this was his grandson pounding into him, and got nothing but a stronger surge of arousal shooting to his dick for his efforts. Well, that was a bridge crossed. 

"I'm-I-I'm about to, I'm gonna," and with surge so strong Rick heard his spine crack Morty thrust down into him, yelling almost desperately as his hips spasmed, emptying himself into his grandfather. 

Rick wanted to moan as Morty's movements faltered and he slowly withdrew. He paused his hand, clenching it around the base of his cock, but could admit to being a bit relieved. Coming from being plowed by your grandson was a bit mortifying, honestly, and it had been getting close.

He was debating the merits of finishing himself off right now, prudence be damned, versus pushing Morty out the door and tending to himself in peace, when he heard Morty shift and he gasped as a wet, hot mouth started sucking urgently on the head of his dick. His hips jerked up in reflex, only to be slammed back down again by Morty's hands.

"God f-fucking, shit, Morty!" That had taken him by surprise. Either the kid was a natural or Rick was even closer to the edge than he wanted to think, because it felt painfully good. Morty’s tongue was curling around his dick as he sucked Rick in deeper, moaning with what seemed like genuine fervor.

Rick's one hand moved to grab at the mattress, and his other shot up and fisted into Morty's hair, pushing down for just a second before hurriedly falling away. He was groaning shamelessly, his orgasm building relentlessly. 

He didn't care, he didn't fucking care, he wanted to come. He really wanted to come. His feet moved restlessly, and his eyes slammed shut as Morty's hand moved to cup his balls, squeezing them with increasing pressure as he sucked hard on the head of Rick's dick, other hand digging painfully into his hip. It was too much. He tapped on Morty's shoulder, signaling danger, but he didn't back off. 

Nearly screaming, and with wrench that he thought he might regret later, Rick came, chest curling forwards as he shuddered into Morty's mouth. He felt his throat work around him, swallowing him down and forcing an actual whimper out of his mouth. For a second, all he could do was breathe. 

Panting, he opened his eyes and realized his fist was once again clenched in Morty's hair. He quickly removed it. A glance at the kid's face showed him sweaty, red, and grinning. 

He slumped back down on the bed, feeling breathless and loose. Afterglow and a peculiar relief flooded through him, making him say dumb shit. "God Morty, that was-that was a good, a good job. You suck dick like a fucking champ." 

"Ah, jeez, th-thanks Rick," Morty replied, looking smug and a bit like the cat that caught the canary. 

"That was seriously your first time, doing any, any of that?" Morty nodded, looking prouder. 

"Fuck. Must be those Sanchez geeeenes, ba-baby!" Rick crowed, then felt himself start to laugh. He felt off-balanced, a little hysterical. The self recriminations for what he had done lurked ominously in the distance, but right now, he felt surprisingly good, blissed out, even. 

"You did good kid. Better, better than grandpa ever expected." He needed to stop talking like this. He turned his head and looked at Morty, "So... what did you think?" He could cringe at how needy it sounded. That wasn't at all what he meant. 

Morty blew out a sigh and flopped down so that they were lying parallel, his gaze on the ceiling. Maybe he was avoiding looking at him. Rick prepared himself for the awkwardness, the regret and inevitable weirdness that, goddamn it, he had known all along was gonna happen. 

"That was... that was pretty fucking rad, yo," Rick's eyes shot back over to him. The shit-eating grin was back on Morty’s face, and he turned his head to look at Rick. 

"You were pretty fucking rad, R-Rick." He smiled sunnily, stupidly, at him. "Tha-thank you. That was awesome, and it was exactly what I wanted. Even if it's only once, it-it was really fucking cool."

Rick grunted, honestly a bit at a loss for words. What now? What did he say, what did he do now? He tried to remember his plans, his steps for various contingencies, but he felt weary, brain stretched out and unwilling to do work. Tired. It was late. Morty should go to his room, go to bed. He took a breath and started to tell him so, but he got interrupted before he had even truly began. 

" Rick, feel free to -to say no, but can I, would it be if, if just tonight I-"

"Morty," Rick looked at him evenly. This was not a good idea. This was definitely crossing a line. Rick caught the thought and laughed bitterly at himself. Crossing a line, really? He could feel the slowly rising tension in Morty and sighed. 

There really was no point. If this blew up, he had already made a promise to himself and Morty to fix it. He felt anxiety begin to wash back into him as he imagined facing his grandson with a memory gun over this. He was still picturing it as he muttered, "Alright, for tonight," and turned to grab a blanket, along with their underwear, from the floor, hauling it over them. He slid his on, but Morty ignored his, feigning a yawn and turning to his side under the blanket.

Ugghh. Fuck it. Rick didn't have the energy to argue over it right now. He had already exhausted over a year's worth of giveable fucks on this endeavor so far. He might as well give the kid his perfect ending. He doubted he'd actually sleep much. It would be easy to prod Morty back to his room in the early morning. 

He turned to his side and settled down, frowning as Morty pushed his way towards him, settling with his back pressed against Rick's chest, his hair almost tickling Rick's nose. Rick huffed a bit and threw an arm over him, sighing.

They lay there for some time. It felt... nice. Which just indicated a problem. God, he was gonna be thinking about this shit all night. 

Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow loomed. Rick closed his eyes and tried to relax his breathing, feeling his grandson spooned up against him, on his tiny cot, in his dark little room. 

He fell asleep a lot faster than he expected to.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Hopefully it wasn't too bad. I have more planned for this (still). Comments are always welcome!


End file.
